Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (51 page)

“Nervous?  You?”  Elizabeth looked up in surprise.  “What have you to be nervous about?  You are always so assured!”

“I am not!  Surely you know me well enough by now to be certain of that.  Do you have any idea how nervous I was last night?  The anticipation was extraordinary but the fear was enormous.” 

“But . . . what have you to fear?  You . . . you know everything.”

“Of lovemaking?  No.  Not at all.”  He felt her demanding gaze upon him and kissed her gently.  “What I have experienced was not by any definition an expression of love.”  Her eyes cast down and he rubbed her hand.  “And dearest, even that experience has been somewhat limited.”

“Somewhat?”

“Very.”  He admitted.  “Richard is fond of calling me an innocent, and truly he is not far off the mark.”  Seeing that she did not laugh, he spoke seriously, “I have a cousin who has taken the time to fill my head with the possibilities of disease; I am enough of a coward to not wish to risk my future in the embrace of a stranger.”  Elizabeth studied him intently.  “I have another cousin who will inevitably be familiar with the effects of mercury treatments.”

“You are not a coward, you are sensible.”

“Call it what you like, but I am certain that what I feel when you touch me now will only be amplified when we at last give in.  The way that I kiss you is due entirely to my imagination, not experience.”  He drew a breath and squeezed her hand.  “I am grateful that we failed last night.  I want our first time to be . .  . beautiful, not in a rush.”

Elizabeth turned back into his embrace.  “Would you do me a great and wonderful favour?”

“Anything, love.”  He kissed her hair and rubbed his hands slowly up and down her back.

“Let it just happen.  I . . . I do not want a night with a special dinner or . . . a special nightdress.  I do not want to have Judy anoint me with perfumes or fashion my hair in some enticing arrangement.  I do not want to be left spending a day wondering what the night might bring.”  Darcy could feel her heart pounding against his chest.  “Just decide for yourself that the time has come and kiss me.”   She looked up to see his eyes were warm and hoped that he understood.  “Just kiss me and let . . .”

“Nature take its course?”  He smiled and laughed softly when she nodded.  “Sneak up on you?”

“That is not what I meant.”  She sighed.

“I know.”  Darcy kissed her, and feeling her pressing into him, kissed her again.  He leaned his forehead against hers, “Very well then.  I am very glad to grant you this wish.”

“I love you.”

“Oh sweet Elizabeth, I know that very well.  And you know that I love you.”  They both closed their eyes, as relief slowly replaced the tension they had been carrying for weeks. 

Elizabeth listened to his heart beating and smiled.  “I just realized something.  The way we are talking right now, we are not teasing or fighting or . . . anything, we are just talking.”

“So we are.”  His mouth lifted and when she looked up to him.  “I think we might be on to something here.” 

“Tell me about Pemberley.”

“Pemberley?”  Darcy’s brow creased.  “Well . . . there is the house.”

“No, not the description, not the beauty of the park or the decoration of the house or even the mud.”  Darcy sighed.  “Tell me what it means to be the master.  Tell me what it entails of your time, your commitment, the people who come to you and what they need.  Pemberley is your heart and soul.”

“You are my heart and soul.”

“Then Pemberley is what makes you the dear man I love.  To understand your commitment to it is to understand you.”  Elizabeth let go and slipped her hand into his.  “It is time that I met Fitzwilliam Darcy, I think.  Then I will understand all of the things that . . . make you tick.”  She laughed and he blushed.

“Nobody has ever asked me these things before, Elizabeth.  I hardly know what to say or how to begin.” 

“That is the beauty of it, Will, we can take our time.”  Smiling, she reached up to caress his face.  “Tell me.”

Leaning into her touch, he gave her his little smile.  “When will we get to dissect you?” 

“Well, as I am pretty much an empty vessel, I think I will be spending this time filling up with all that I will be learning from you when we go home.”  Seeing his slowly shaking head, it was her turn to blush.  “Maybe I know a few things, but I do know I am woefully unprepared for my position.  My behaviour yesterday proved that.”

“You simply lack experience, love.  And my behaviour was no better.”  He looked out to see the carriage still waiting and the tone of his voice changed.  “Mrs. Darcy, we have calls to make.  It is unfortunately part of your position.”

She glared as he kissed her cheek and skilfully guided her from the study.  “You are just avoiding talking about yourself.” 

“I am not.  I am . . . filling your empty vessel.” 

“Ha.” 

Darcy laughed.  “Give me a chance and I will fill your vessel in a more satisfying way.”  Seeing her face instantly crimson, he also felt her pinch on his arm.  “No, no, dear, save that for the lovely people we are about to meet.” 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, FATHER?”  Lord Matlock jumped and hurriedly put the cork back in the bottle he had in his hands.  Richard folded his arms and leaned on the doorway to the butler’s pantry at Matlock House.  “When did you start cracking open bottles yourself?  And what on earth are you doing with that candle?  You are decanting?  I find that hard to believe.”

“I needed some wax.”

“You are resealing it?  I hope that you put a fresh cork in there.”  Laughing, Richard walked forward.  “Oh, that port you favour.”

“I know, I know, you hate it.  Darcy is bringing his bride over to meet me, and I needed a wedding gift.”  He lit the candle and dripped wax over the cork and neck, smoothing it expertly with his pocket knife so it nearly looked professionally done.

“So you give Darcy an open bottle?  How generous of you.  What will you give his bride, some used tea leaves?  I know that money is tight . . .”

“Very funny, Richard.”  He set the bottle aside and crossed his arms.  “I wanted to taste it before I gave it to him; you know how chancy it is with this wine.”  He gestured to the bottle.  “If I gave him a spoiled one, he would never forget.”

“Ah, not so much a wedding gift as a bribe.”  Richard snorted.  

“If the army would get to work defeating Napoleon, we could return to drinking good wine and these measures would be unnecessary!”  He snatched up the bottle and carried it with him to his study.

“I will see what I can do about that.”  Richard murmured. “I thought that you were leaving for Matlock a few days ago.  Why the delay?”

“I have a business proposition to address.”  He growled.  “And it is none of your concern.”

“I would not think of asking.”  Richard held up his hands while settling into a chair.  “You know the gift that Darcy would truly appreciate is Aunt Catherine losing her tongue.  You are good with a knife, could you possibly put it to use on her?”

Rolling his eyes, Lord Matlock sighed.  “I have talked to her until my face is blue.  She is a vindictive wench.”

“But does she not see that she is doing nothing to help herself?  Darcy is much greater than she, and can give so much more.”

“She has Rosings, well Anne does.  And as Darcy has rejected her, my sister has publicly rejected him.  Of course if his wife were to conveniently die in childbirth, she would welcome him back with open arms.” 

“She would, too.”  Richard snorted.  “But by then my fair cousin will have been married off and that would be the end of that particular torture for Darcy, unless of course you come along to offer poor Cathy to the grieving widower.” 

“Yes.”  Lord Matlock rubbed his chin. 

“Father!”  Richard stared.  “It is bad enough to even whisper of Elizabeth’s demise, but to plan Darcy’s future without her is disgusting!  I was joking!”

“As am I!”  He straightened.  “I do not wish for Elizabeth to die.”

“Good.”  Clearing his throat, he watched his father curiously.  “How is my brother?  He never writes to me.”

“Fell off his horse during a hunt last week.”  He waved his hand.  “He lived.”

“Obviously.” 

“Any tidbits about Georgiana?”  He raised his brows.  “I have not heard a peep in months . . .”

“You will see her in weeks, Father.”

“As will you.”  He looked at him seriously.  “This is an excellent opportunity for you, Son.  Offering an easy marriage to Darcy, taking her off his hands . . .”  He lifted his brows.  “Especially when she is so difficult . . .”

Richard started and examined his father closely.  “What have you heard?” 

Lord Matlock spoke quickly.  “Oh, nothing, nothing, I just know these young girls can be troublesome at that age.  Your sister was a handful; I can imagine Georgiana has her moments.”

“Oh.”  Settling back in his chair, he shook his head.  “You previously described her as shy.”

“She is . . . damn it Richard, marry her!”  Hearing his son’s groan he leaned forward, “What if Darcy died, what would become of her?”

“Died!  Good God, Father!  First Elizabeth and now Darcy?  You are bloodthirsty today!”

“I am only looking out for the ones I love.” 

“I am beginning to wonder just which ones they are.”  Richard snorted and stood.  “Well, I just dropped by to pick up the book I left behind on my last stay.  It was from Darcy’s library and he will miss it, no doubt, and I will be skewered for it.  When do they come to see you?” 

“Tomorrow.”  Lord Matlock said pensively. 

“I will see them Sunday.”  Standing by the door, Richard looked back at his father who was staring at the bottle.  “You know that if something happened to Darcy, we would look after Georgiana until she was able to assume her place.”

“You laugh at me, but think about it, Son.  It is an outstanding match for you.  I will put a bug in Darcy’s ear about it.”

“Leave the poor man alone, Father.”  Richard said pointedly.  “I will see you at Pemberley, or if you keep hanging around London, I will travel with you.”  Lord Matlock smiled.  “But only if you can think of another subject to discuss.”  He looked at him seriously and his father watched him leave.  

The earl picked up the bottle of wine and studied the label.  “My dear sweet niece and my son.”  He nodded and put the bottle down.  “I have failed in this so far, but I will make it so.”

ELIZABETH WATCHED DARCY walk around the drawing room, looking down to his boots and back up again, clasping his hands behind his back.  Eventually, he took a position near the window.  “Are you nervous?”

“No.”  His soft voice rumbled.  “I am unsure what we will speak about.  What have we in common besides you?” 

“Books?”  She smiled and he looked up.  “Fishing?”

“Fishing?”  His mouth curved.  “Your uncle is a fisherman?”

She laughed.  “Well, he was before he moved to London.  I have heard a few wistful stories.  They have been talking of taking a trip to the Peaks for years.” 

“Really?”  He nodded and seeing movement outside, lifted his chin.  “I believe they are here.”  Elizabeth rose and took his outstretched hand.  “We stay here, love.”  Kissing her fingers, he smiled.  “Just like when the ladies come to visit, they are brought to you.”  Seeing her nod, he whispered.  “You did very well with them today.”

“You were with me.” 

“I barely spoke.” 

“I noticed, but your presence lent me confidence and silenced their tongues.”  He gave her a pleased smile and she lifted her brow.  “So in essentials, I have learned that you are the same man, regardless of the company.” 

“I suppose that I am shy wherever I may be.”  His eyes twinkled a little.  “There, I admit that I am shy to you, something else to add to your catalogue, what shall you admit to me?”

Elizabeth leaned into his shoulder.  “I am shy, too.”

Darcy’s lips brushed over her hair.  “I know.  Does anyone else?” 

Mrs. Gaston appeared at the door.  “Mr. Darcy, pardon me, but Mr. Bingley has come.”  Darcy’s brow creased and she turned to see out of the window that another carriage had just pulled up.  Her ring of keys jangled when she looked over her shoulder towards the steps.  “Your guests are arriving, sir, shall I tell him to return another time?”

“I sent him a note this morning, but I did not invite him . . . perhaps he misunderstood when I suggested he come over to speak in person.”  He looked at Elizabeth.  “I am sorry, he was asking for advice, and I am afraid that he is used to simply arriving at this time of day for a talk and a meal.  I was always glad of the company.” 

She smiled when his cheeks coloured.  “He is your friend, and he needs you.  I will be fine; this is my family, after all.  See to him . . . Go on, then.” 

Torn, Darcy bit his lip and looked at Mrs. Gaston.  “Tell him I will be there directly, please put him in my study.”

“Yes, sir.”  She turned swiftly and disappeared. 

“I am sorry, dear.”

“Why not invite him to stay?  He is welcome; it is my chance to pay him back for the many meals that he gave me, gave both of us.”  Elizabeth smiled and Darcy chuckled.

“I think I have given him many more than he has ever provided me.  Are you sure you would want him?  He is going to be mortified, I know.”

“The evening might be easier on you.”  Darcy sighed and he nodded, squeezing her hand. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner.”  Lowry announced and stood aside as the Gardiners cautiously entered the room. 

“Aunt!”  Elizabeth beamed.  “Uncle!  Oh, it is so wonderful to see you here!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, welcome.”  Darcy said softly and bowed, letting go of Elizabeth so that she could embrace her relations. 

“It is beautiful, Lizzy.”  Mrs. Gardiner declared.

“I have never seen the like, sir.”  Mr. Gardiner bowed to Darcy. 

“Thank you, I am sorry, but I must leave you for a few moments, I leave you in my wife’s capable hands.”  He bowed his head slightly to Mrs. Gardiner and sending Elizabeth a small smile, swiftly left the room.

“Oh, Lizzy.”  Mrs. Gardiner took her hand.  “Mr. Darcy is unhappy, should we go?”

“No, no.”  She smiled.  “Truly he is fine . . .”